


Prosecco and Lime

by Anonymous



Series: Vegas Lights (Casino AU) [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angry Sex, Author loves mixology, Bad Flirting, Begging, CASINO AU BAYBEEEEEE, George is a brat, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, I guess????, Jealousy, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Not explicitly but like it's pretty obvious if you look LMFAO, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Suits, Teasing, Techno just wants to play poker please leave him alone, YEAHHHHHHHHHHHH, degrading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:53:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27683834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: George was, honestly, pissed.Dream had been ignoring him all night.All. Night.And frankly? George was about to lose it.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Vegas Lights (Casino AU) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024438
Comments: 54
Kudos: 925
Collections: anonymous





	Prosecco and Lime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The Horn Knee bitches](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+Horn+Knee+bitches).



> AYYYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
> 
> CAN'T BELIEVE THE FIRST THING BEING PUT OUT FOR THIS AU IS PURE SMUT BUT KEEP AN EYE OUT, THERE'S GONNA BE UHHH ACTUAL PLOT AND LORE FICS COMING SOON!!!!! HAHA IT WON'T JUST BE THESE IDIOTS FUCKING I SWEAR
> 
> Some context for the actual au:
> 
> Clay owns a casino named 'The Dream'
> 
> George is a bartender there, he and Dream have a uhhh interesting relationship
> 
> Liam is also a bartender
> 
> Techno is Philza's son, Philza is the casino's landlord, so Techno gets treated like royalty at the casino which Dream isn't at all a fan of, but he can't just kick Techno out cuz,,,, landlord's son
> 
> Edit, 1/5/2021: I now have a collection with all the works I've posted under the Anon A alias :D so if you like what I write and want an easy way to follow me, check that out! https://archiveofourown.org/series/2093610

George was, honestly, pissed.

Dream had been ignoring him all night. All. Night. And frankly? George was about to lose it.

What the  _ fuck  _ gave him the right? George scowled. He didn’t deserve this shit! Dream was being a  _ total  _ asshole, and for what? He had been at the tables all night, never once coming to the bar, barely even sparing a look in George’s direction. He had a woman at his side, she had been consistently next to Clay for most of the night, draping herself over the casino owner like arm candy. What really got to George was the fact Clay had ordered her a few drinks. Not to say George was jealous or anything, but he did put a lot more anger into the drinks he had made for her.

George wasn’t having it, but he also wasn’t going to storm up there and drag Clay away from the table. He was an employee, that would be unsightly, and he was also on the job. That didn’t stop him from doing his own flirting, though. He could still laugh a bit too much at customer’s jokes, bite his lip and pretend to listen when some drunk idiot bragged about how much money they’d just won and would inevitably end up losing again by the end of the night. But that wasn’t doing George any favors, because Dream  _ still  _ wasn’t even  _ looking  _ at him.

So George needed something else. Something  _ drastic _ , if you will. Something that, under normal circumstances, he would never even think about, something that would make Dream  _ seethe _ . Tonight, George just wanted Dream’s attention, even if that attention came from Dream’s absolute fury. That would be preferable, actually, the more George thought about it.

So, with a quick mental pep-talk, George made a Hugo with an extra twist of lime, and headed towards the table Techno was playing at. He put on a smile as he approached, sidling up to where the son of the landlord was seated.

“Here you go,” He said chirpily as he replaced Techno’s empty glass with the new drink. “You looked pretty busy, so I figured I’d just save you the extra trip to the bar.”

Techno looked up from his cards. He blinked at George, his gaze scrutinizing. He didn’t say  _ what the fuck do you want from me _ out loud, but George could tell he was thinking it.

“Thanks,” Techno said cautiously, like he was stepping over verbal tripwires. George just continued to beam. Techno didn’t understand at all what George was doing, but that was okay, as long as Dream was watching.

“Of course!” George replied, offering a giggle, to which Techno looked almost repulsed. George tried not to be offended. “If you need another one, just give a shout, I’ll be right over!”

Techno looked utterly baffled, squinting at George like he was a literal fucking enigma, instead of just being overly nice. He still didn’t say anything, but again George could tell he was judging to see if George was trying to get anything out of him. George wished he could apologize for getting the other man involved, but this was one thing George knew one-hundred-percent would finally get Clay’s attention.

George put a hand on Techno’s upper arm, already cringing internally, but this is what had to be done.

“You know, Techno,” George said, batting his eyelashes as his touch drifted across Techno’s arm. “I never noticed it before, but you’ve got some muscle under there, hmm?”

“Uh,” Techno stared blankly at him, obviously not picking up on or just flat out ignoring the connotations of George’s advance. “I guess.”

“Just impressive is all,” George noted.

“Okay,” Techno said, monotone as ever. He really could not give less of a shit what George wanted, and just wished he could go back to his poker game. “Thanks, I guess.”

Dream, meanwhile, slammed his drink down so hard on the table George could hear it from where he was across the casino.

“Anytime,” George gave him a tight smile, and then turned and hurried back to the bar. Christ, Techno was going to hate him forever, but at least he got what he wanted. He hummed nervously to himself, cleaning and putting away Techno’s empty cocktail glass.

George heard the sound of a cup being set down,  _ loudly _ . He didn’t have to turn around to know Dream was there, absolutely fuming.

“Need a refill?” George asked casually, almost snickering when he didn't get a response. He turned around and was met with a dark look. George was right, Clay looked livid. His eyes were narrowed, jaw set, his hands resting on the edge of the bar, gripping the marble so tightly with tanned hands his knuckles turned white.

“George,” He started, his voice low in a way that made George’s stomach drop. “Meet me in the lounge.”

“Well,” George hummed, hiding the shake in his voice fairly well all things considered. “I would, but it’s a pretty busy night; lots of people coming to the bar. Can’t leave H alone to deal with all the customers himself, can I? Some other time, maybe.”

He wasn’t oblivious to the way Dream’s hands flexed on the counter, fighting back something on his tongue that might get him in trouble were he to say it too loud in the middle of the busy casino. George didn’t hide his smile; this was absolutely hilarious, and exactly what Dream deserved. He grabbed a bottle of silver tequila, moving to fill up Dream’s glass again. He gasped when Clay’s hand came off the counter, moving fast and gripping George’s wrist hard. George winced, taking his lip between his teeth as Clay’s fingers bit into his wrist, unrelenting and rough; he was going to leave bruises.

“Clay-.”

“ _ George _ ,” Dream cut him off. “ _ Meet me in the lounge. _ ”

That wasn’t a request.

George swallowed thickly. If he wanted an out, he had one. If he gave Clay a hard no, the other man would take a step back, take a deep breath, and let him go. But  _ that  _ wasn’t what George wanted, that wasn’t what he had been teasing Dream  _ all night _ with the intention of getting. He  _ wanted  _ to go to the lounge, he was just going to be a bitch about it.

“Fine,” He said, pulling hard to get his wrist out of Clay’s grasp. He huffed, moving out from behind the bar, shooting a glance over his shoulder to Liam, who just rolled his eyes and waved a hand, confirming that he’d look after the bar alone. George smiled, not sparing another look as he walked towards the back room.

As they moved out of the crowded main floor down the back hallway, George could hear the clack of Dream’s dress shoes behind him. The sound alone made him feel a rush in his gut, just knowing that Clay was right behind him, the other man’s attention finally all on him. George stopped in front of the door to the lounge, punching in the passcode, waiting for the buzzer before he pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside, Clay following right behind.

As soon as the door closed, George was backed up against it, pinned by a hand in his hair, gripping tight.

“What the  _ fuck  _ was that?” Dream hissed. George only smirked.

“What was what?”

“Don’t play dumb, fucking  _ brat _ .” Oh, Clay was angry, and George was living for it.

“Dunno what you’re talking about, Clay. You’ll have to specify, sorry,” George hummed. Dream, in turn, growled, making a dive for George’s neck. He pulled hard on George’s hair, making the other man tip his head back further as Clay left harsh bites across the pale expanse of skin.

“ _ Clay _ !” George yelped. He groaned when Clay gave a particularly rough bite to a tender spot on his neck. He still held a smirk, though. This was exactly what he wanted. He gasped again when Dream shoved a leg between his thighs, roughly grinding up against the other man. George moaned, his hips stuttering against Dream’s thigh.

Dream moved from George’s neck further up, nipping along his jawline. George whined, trying to twist his head but Dream’s grip on his hair kept him still. Dream did humor him, though, and finally moved up to give him an actual kiss. It was rough, desperate, teeth clicking together uncomfortably. Clay ground up with his thigh again, making George whimper into his mouth, squeezing his own thighs around Dream’s leg. 

Dream swiped his tongue across George’s bottom lip, testing the waters before pushing forward, deepening the kiss. George breathed in shakily through his nose. He was a little dazed, pulled along by the reigns as Dream took control of the situation, but George could say for a fact he was not upset at all by how fast things were moving. He moaned again against Clay. They kissed for a moment longer, until Dream pulled back and George gasped for air. Clay didn't let him have a moment's rest, however.

Dream went back to biting up George’s neck and jaw, leaving a multitude of bruises way above the line George’s shirt would cover. Clay pulled his leg away, making George let out a particularly annoyed noise.

“Clay,” George said. “Come on. Fucking stop  _ teasing _ .”

“Why? Are you gonna cry?” Dream huffed in George’s ear. He nipped sharply at the lobe, drawing a whine from George. “Am I being too mean? We’ve barely even started, baby.”

“Fuck you,” George breathed with a shaky laugh. “You’re the  _ worst _ , literally the worst.”

“Oh?” Clay said. He scoffed, leaning closer in, pushing his chest against George’s, making the other man feel smaller. “ _ I’m _ the worst? You were the one being a brat tonight. Hitting on Techno? Have you really stooped that low?”

“Refilling a drink is flirting, now?” George only pushed back harder. Dream had been ignoring him all night, served the other man right if he was jealous over George giving someone else a spare moment of his time.

“Don’t fuck with me, George,” Dream growled. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“Really?” George hummed, absolutely intent on playing with Dream for as long as he could, dragging out Clay’s anger until he snapped. “What was it exactly I was doing, again?”

“You’re really pushing buttons today, huh?” Dream was angry. He was on the edge of breaking, George could tell. He wanted to make Dream  _ break _ . “Last time I checked, feeling someone up wasn’t a part of standard bar-tending. So that, along with generally being a brat; talking back, being disrespectful.”

“Uh-huh?” George smirked. “And then what?”

Dream snarled, a frankly animalistic sound that made George feel like prey. George licked his lips and dared to continue.

“And last time I checked, touching someone’s arm doesn’t count as feeling them up, Clay. Are you really  _ that  _ possessive?”

Ah, there it was, the snap George was waiting for.

Clay grabbed his arm, dragging the other man over to the closest sofa, practically throwing him onto it. George landed on the cushions, glaring indignantly up at Clay.

“Strip,” Clay said, his tone even and dark. It was a command. George swallowed, but reached for the top button on his shirt with trembling fingers. Clay watched intently, staring down at George with his arms crossed as the Brit slowly undid each button. “If you don’t hurry the fuck up, I’ll just rip it open.”

“ _ Jesus _ ,” George breathed. As much as he found that hot in concept, he did like this shirt, so he quickened his pace with the rest of the buttons. Dream huffed, satisfied, and walked over to the bar. He opened a cabinet under the wet bar as George continued to strip, kicking off his shoes and haphazardly pooling his dress shirt, vest, and slacks in a pile off to the side. Dream dug around the very back of the cabinet for a moment, locating a bottle of lube -mostly empty, he noted, in a reminder to purchase more later- and a box of condoms. He grabbed the lube and a condom, straightening up and returning to George, who was now sitting on the couch in just his boxers.

“I said strip,” Clay looked unimpressed. George rolled his eyes, which Dream did not appreciate. “You really are intent on being just the worst little bitch tonight, huh?”

“Maybe,” George didn’t miss Clay’s mouth twitch up at that. He was gonna have fun playing with a brat, and George was fully content continuing to be one. He gave in, though, and shed his boxers, adding them to the pile. Dream scoffed. He dropped the lube next to George, pocketing the condom for the moment. He walked over to the armchair across from the sofa. Taking a seat, he crossed his legs at the ankles, resting his cheek against his hand, arm on the armrest.

“Well?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Well? Well what?” George asked, exasperated.

“Well, you’re being a brat,” Dream interrupted himself with a cruel smirk. “So finger yourself, I’m not gonna do it.”

George sputtered, entirely infuriated by such a notion. Dream didn’t budge from his place in the chair, though, and his smirk stayed the same. George was absolutely, positively not going to do that, not with Dream just sitting there watching him, far too smug for George's liking.

“Fuck you,” George spat.

“Well, fine then, if you don’t want any prep,” Dream’s threat was punctuated by him uncrossing his legs, moving to stand again. George’s stomach dropped. The reality of that was less than pleasant, and although the idea was hot, George could tell Clay was bluffing. Well... he was pretty sure he was bluffing, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. He grumbled, grabbing the lube and uncapping it. Dream settled back into his chair with a Cheshire grin.

George glared directly at Clay, his face burning as he coated his fingers in lube. Clay only watched in amusement, his eyes tracking George’s fingers as they rubbed together, warming the lube. Dream hummed, a warning he was getting slightly impatient, and George’s eyes narrowed, his glower darkening.

But, he shuffled around on the couch until he was sitting on his knees and reached a hand behind himself, anyway. He bit his lip, casting his gaze away from Dream, unable to keep looking the other man in the face as he nervously circled his hole with a finger.

"Come on, now," Dream pushed. "Let's move on with it, shall we?"

George grit his teeth, biting back a curse, but did as he was told, finally pushing a finger in. It was almost embarrassing how easily he took one finger at this point. There was no reaction other than a sigh through his teeth. He pushed it in and out a few times, still warming himself up, before adding another.

Two fingers made him actually feel something, made the blush that was coating his face start to creep down his neck as arousal gripped him. He scissored his fingers gently, risking a look up at Dream, who had the audacity to look bored.

George grit his teeth harder, setting his jaw and pushing in another finger, forcing a loud moan to get Clay interested again. It worked, apparently, seeing as Clay stood up, walking leisurely up to George on the sofa. Clay stood with his crotch at face height with George, and George was half expecting Dream to make him suck him off before he actually got fucked, but Dream surprised him instead, and leaned down. Then he really surprised George, and wrapped a hand around the smaller boy's now fully hard cock.

George didn't have to force a moan this time, a sound of pure pleasure slipping past his lips. Dream started slow, his hand stroking at a languid pace, but he sped up in due time, making George whine and moan between the hand-job and fingering himself.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” George panted.

“Beg,” Clay was thoroughly amused. He cast a smug look down at George.

“I hate you,” George hissed. “No.”

“Mm, that doesn’t sound like a please to me,” Dream tisked, letting go of George’s dick completely. George whined, his hips stuttering to follow Clay’s hand, but a sudden hand on his hip forced him to stay still.

“ _ Beg _ ,” Dream repeated, this time more firmly. “You’re lucky I’m letting you get off at all, with the way you’ve been acting tonight.”

George let out a frustrated noise, tossing his head back in annoyance.

“God,” George steeled himself. He didn’t want to beg, but he knew Dream wasn’t above edging him for literal hours if he didn’t, and he wasn’t up for that tonight. “Please, Clay.”

“I said beg,” Clay’s voice only got lower. “Not ask,  _ beg _ .”

“ _ Please _ , Clay,” George repeated, his tone more desperate now. He squeezed his eyes shut. Fuck, his hand was starting to cramp a bit with the angle it was at, but his own fingers were rubbing against his prostate and it felt fucking incredible. He needed Clay’s hand back on him. “Please,  _ please _ , let me cum. I promise I’ll be good, please. I’m dying, here. I need you, please.”

“That’s a lie, that you’ll be good,” Clay let out a little huff. “But whatever, I guess I’ll accept that.”

George moaned again when Clay’s hand went back to stroking him. He shuddered, letting himself fall victim to the overwhelming pleasure, chanting a little mantra of  _ yes, yes, yes _ under his breath until he felt himself come close to the edge.

“Clay,” George sighed. He bucked into Dream’s hand, cresting his orgasm with a rasping moan. To his utter dismay, however, Clay pulled his hand away too quickly, leaving George to cum without the follow-through. He felt angry, and annoyingly unsatisfied, tears pricking in his eyes as they flew open.

“You  _ bastard _ ,” George shivered. He shifted another dirty glare towards Clay.

“What?” Clay asked flatly. “I let you cum, didn’t I?”

“You know what you did,” George snapped.

“Really?” Dream hummed, a new smirk finding its way onto his face. “What was it exactly I was doing, again?”

George cursed him, cursed Dream to Hell and back. This bastard, taunting George with his own line? Horrible. Giving him a half-hearted orgasm?  _ Literally  _ the worst. But George still couldn’t catch a break. Dream grabbed George’s arms, manhandling him into a position he saw fit, pulling his fingers out.

He pushed George down into the sofa cushions, face first. George let out an indignant protest, but could only gasp when Clay grabbed his wrists, pulling them back, pinning them down his spine, leaving his back deeply arched. It was a tad uncomfortable, but the control it gave Dream…

“If I were feeling extra mean, I’d make you beg for this, too,” Clay said, his voice hushed in a warning tone. He shifted his grip so he was holding both of George’s wrists in one hand. He used his other hand to unzip his slacks, shifting them and his boxers down his thighs enough his own length could be freed. He released George’s wrists for only a moment; George heard the gentle tear of an aluminum package as Clay opened and put on the condom. Once that was finished, he took George’s wrists back into one hand, using the other to hold the base of his cock; George inhaled sharply when he felt the tip against his entrance. “But lucky for you, I’m too impatient for that.”

Clay didn’t even give George a chance to respond, pushing in almost all the way in one sharp thrust, knocking all the air out of George’s lungs and all the thoughts out of his head. He was already sensitive from a first orgasm, feeling Dream’s cock inside him felt so much more intense than it normally did, and that was saying something.

Clay switched out one hand for both, holding George’s wrists in a steadfast, tight grip George just knew was going to leave bruises. Clay pulled out slowly before rocking sharply back in a few more times, warming up to thrusting into George. The other man was tight around him and fuck, did Clay want nothing more than to ruin him.

Dream started picking up the pace, rocking in and out a bit faster now, still drawing sounds of pleasure deep from George’s throat. George arched his back more, sinking somehow further down into the sofa. His chest was flat against the couch, his shoulders already beginning to ache from being pulled back.

Dream’s fingers dug into George’s wrists, helping Clay by pulling George flush back against his hips with every thrust. He was deep inside the brunet, living for the warmth and the way George’s body gave way for him. The sofa creaked under them as Dream rocked his hips harder, grinding roughly against George’s hips when he was fully sheathed inside of him. George was far too overstimulated at this point, feeling the needy pull of another orgasm in his gut.

“Clay,” George pleaded. “ _ Please _ , Clay, I-I’m gonna cum, I need-.”

“Hmm? Didn’t you already cum once?” Clay only laughed at his pitiful state. “Go ahead, but I’m not helping you with this one.”

George practically sobbed, turning his face more into the cushions to hide his angry tears. Dream was such a bastard. George panted and babbled his way through some more pleads, all of which were promptly ignored. He was so close, but the prospect of cumming untouched was so infuriating. It would be painfully unsatisfying, again, but that was probably the point.

George stifled a moan, more tears spilling down his cheeks as Dream’s hips kept rocking into him, nailing his prostate with calculated, sharp thrusts. He felt himself come close to another orgasm, the pressure so exasperatingly light in his gut. It was painful, almost, but he came again, shuddering through an orgasm that just left him more sensitive and somehow less satisfied.

“Please,” George gasped, hands grasping at the air for purchase. Dream was relentless, even after George had cum twice, his pace brutal, his hands rough, still holding George’s wrists in a bruising grip. George was dying, every thrust now making him lurch forward, the only reason he hadn’t completely toppled over yet was because of Dream holding onto his arms.

“Please, what?” Dream huffed, smirk evident in his voice alone. “Slow down? Am I being too rough? Is it too much for you? You fucking love it, whore. You were a brat tonight just for this.”

Dream pulled back hard on George’s arms, forcing the other man flush against his hips. George let out a choked up scream.

“Isn’t that right?” Dream continued, rolling his hips against George’s, grinding deep into the other man. “You think I didn’t know you did it all on purpose? You just wanted me angry, huh? What for, so I could drag you back here and fuck you senseless? Well it fucking worked, are you happy,  _ slut _ ?”

“Yeah,” George wheezed out a delirious laugh. Yeah, he was happy with this. Overstimulated, crying, and happy.

“God, you’re just the worst,” Dream muttered, but his words were fond. “This isn’t even a fucking punishment, you like it too much, you wanted it.”

“Mhmm,” George let his eyes flutter closed, taking a shuddering breath as Dream continued to grind into his hips. “Oh no, you caught me.”

George moaned when Dream pulled almost all the way out, only to slam back in again.

“Actually just the worst,” Clay huffed. He started picking up his pace again, making sure to hold George back so every thrust in hit deep in his gut. George was far gone, whimpering and moaning with every movement, a few more tears trickling down his face. He groaned when Dream finally released his arms, moving his grip to George’s waist instead as his hips stuttered, a surefire sign he was getting close. George’s hands went to clutch at the fabric of the sofa, faux leather giving him little surface.

Clay leaned down, draping himself over George’s back. He bit hard into George’s shoulder, drawing a keen from the smaller man. Dream’s thrusts were erratic, and it wasn’t long until he groaned against George’s skin, pulling the smaller man’s hips back to bury himself all the way in George as he came. George shuddered, Clay releasing his teeth from George’s shoulder as he stayed inside George for the aftershocks of his orgasm. He offered a kiss to the bite mark, significantly more tender than anything else that night had been.

George swore he only blinked and suddenly the warmth of Clay was gone. He pouted, but was pleased to find it was only temporary, as Clay came back quickly with a paper towel to do a quick wipe-down of both George and the couch. He tossed it, then returned again, adjusting the both of them on the sofa so they were lying down, with Clay tucked against George’s side, his head on the smaller man’s chest.

Now they just laid there, with the anger and adrenaline gone, with the lust slipping away, in a haze of afterglow.

“ _ Christ _ ,” George huffed. He draped an arm over his eyes, blocking out the florescent lights of the lounge. That was definitely worth it. Dream hummed in vague agreement. He threw an arm over George’s waist.

“You’re mine,” Dream said, squeezing George’s hip lightly.

“I know, Clay,” George smiled. He put his free hand on Dream’s head, carding his fingers through soft blond hair.

“I know you know,” Clay mumbled, turning his head to nuzzle into George’s chest. “I just... Don’t want you to think I was like  _ really  _ actually mad.”

Clay laughed quietly, the soft noise making George’s head fill with butterflies.

“Well, I was a bit, but I can never stay mad at you.”

“I know, Clay,” George repeated. “And I don’t actually like Techno, for the record.”

“Well fuck, I’d hope not,” Clay laughed again, a bit louder this time. George chimed in with his own giggle.

Yeah, definitely worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> COMMENT MODERATION IS ON!!! IF YOU DON'T WANT YOUR COMMENT TO BE MADE PUBLIC JUST LMK :D
> 
> Tysm for reading!!!
> 
> -Anon A <3


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